


Some Good In This World (Worth Fighting For)

by Wally_Birb



Series: Smoak'd [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Badass Felicity Smoak, Ellis Island Hate, Erskine Lives For Some Reason, Everything Is Cisco's Fault, Female Friendships, Multi, Polyamory, Racism, Skinny!Steve, Stuck in the past, Time Travel, Why Did I Write This?, Women Being Awesome, Women in the Military, World War II, havenrock, m/m/f, the 1940s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wally_Birb/pseuds/Wally_Birb
Summary: Felicity blames Cisco, honestly. It's always Cisco's fault, so she figured that when she woke up in the 1940's after interrupting one of his experiments, it was a safe bet to think that it was all Cisco's fault.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note: this is operating on the idea that while "Captain America" is widely known, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes really aren't.
> 
> Also: I'm sorry.

It was a popular misconception that back in the era of World War 2 and the era afterwards, the United States had been a pinnacle of morality--especially when it came to antisemitism. After all, the United States was the hero of the War, we’ve been told. We fucked up Japan so badly (yet completely humanely and in a totally called for attack of which we definitely knew all of the ramifications and how to help) that they surrendered and Hitler just decided to kill himself. The United States would then go on to cure racism and sexism and overall be a global role model for how to treat its citizens.

Well, it wasn’t.

And as idealized as America had been taught to Felicity, she did already know this. She knew this like she knew her own name, because while three of her Jewish great grandparents lived in Poland during the war, the other one lived in Boston and had near been forced out of her home when the more untouchable men had decided that there were too many Jews in the neighborhood.

Her great-grandmother, Elizabeth Mayer, had been a vocal advocate against Jewish discrimination--which was how she would later meet her husband, while assisting the people who’d been freed from concentration camps but were having trouble “assimilating” to American society--which had almost gotten her killed a dozen times. Gran Mayer was tough, though, a characteristic that she handed down to both Donna Smoak and Felicity, and never backed down. Which was why Felicity’s family was so proud of her, why Felicity grew up hearing stories.

Stories that never allowed Felicity to be brainwashed into thinking that the United States was always as welcoming to other religions.

See, Felicity knew the actualities of American culture. That didn’t mean that she was prepared to handle it when Barry, Stein, and Cisco’s project had gone wrong and zapped her into the past--stuck in the 40’s without anything to her name. She’d done what she could, ended up settling down in Brooklyn scant $60 (about $1000 in 2016, she recalled as she tried to cover up her surprise at the prices around her) to her made up name.

The past was basically a different country, but if there was nothing else Felicity could do, it was adapt.

She made her cover--a Jew from France looking to get as far away from Germany as possible after the Allies allowed from to take Poland. She took the name of Felicity Rosenberg, and allowed Ellis Island to shorten it down to Felicity Rose only to appease the man working there who had already been “very patient” with her lack of papers. She pickpocketed a group of men in suits who had yelled harsh words at a black man getting off of a boat and had come up with $120 dollars. Spending $40 on rent for her furnished apartment and $20 on some clothes, Felicity hadn’t given herself time to break down.

This was her situation now, she’d told herself. She’d grin and bare it.

While Felicity had never been a particularly _devout_ Jew, she allowed herself to locate her nearest synagogue when she started to emotionally process the situation she was in. Logically, she knew that her friends would be looking for her, but she also knew that it was hard enough to find someone in your own time. There were infinite possibilities for what could’ve happened to her--including the possibility that she might not even be in the right universe anymore--so she couldn’t rely on them finding her.

So it was with a tear stained face and forcibly straight back that Felicity approached the rabbi who walked into the synagogue as she was gathering herself. Channeling her grandmother who would only speak to Felicity in French, she called out to the man.

“ _Excusez-moi monsieur? Parlez-vous français?_ ”

The man turned to Felicity and blinked a few times before letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I only speak English.”

“Ah, well, no one is perfect.” Felicity mentally congratulated herself on the subtly of her fake accent before continuing. “I just got here from France. My name is Felicity Rosen- ah, just Rose.”

The rabbi frowned a little at Felicity’s flub and gave her his full attention. “You’re from Ellis Island, then. Go on. What’s your real name?”

Felicity blinked up at the man and allowed the corner of her mouth to tick upwards thankfully. “Rosenberg. Felicity Rosenberg.”

“My name is Howard Wolff.” Howard smiled at Felicity gently. “Everyone around here calls me ‘Howie’. Curse of growing up the same place you work. You set up in Brooklyn?”

“ _Oui._ I am living just a short walk away.”

Howie nodded. “I see. I’m glad you found us. I know from others fresh from Europe that you may be...overwhelmed. May I ask where your family is?”

“I am...alone.” Felicity’s eyes fell to the floor for a beat before she looked up at him, forcing a brave smile. “My parents are gone, and I have a few uncles and an aunt who live in Poland that I haven’t heard from.” Howie hummed sympathetically. “But I did not come here to give you a sad story.”

“I don’t mind listening, Ms. Rosenberg.” Howie spoke, his entire presence immensely more comforting than the prayer Felicity had just sent up to a God she barely believed in. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you with this transition.”

“Ah, there is… _une chose_ , one thing.” Felicity bit her lip nervously. “I need to find a job, and I wanted to ask if you know of anyone who is opening to hire a Jewish woman.”

“I- well, I do.” Howie smiled widely. “I was just talking with an old friend of my mother’s, a Mrs. Elliot, who runs a bookshop around here. She’s been alone since her husband died and she needs someone to help around. Can you read and write in English, as well as do basic maths?”

Felicity nodded, both slightly annoyed by the question and amazed that the man had somehow made it sound as non-condescending as possible. Points to Howie. “I am quite well versed in American literature. I also used to be a mathematician, back in France.”

“The shop is just around the corner. “Elliot’s Book Shop”. It’s a dark blue. You can’t miss it.”

“ _Merci_ , Howie.” Felicity smiled gratefully and began moving towards the exit.

“Will I see you around, Ms. Rosenberg?” He called out to her back.

Felicity turned to Howie and gave him an exaggerated shrug. “I was never particularly devout, Howie. How do you say? I believe God is a hypocrite or a mastermind, and I care to be a part of neither’s game.”

Howie raised his eyebrows. “So why did you come here today?”

“I hoped to find someone who believed in the good parts.” She used her hand to gesture around them. “After all, even if my faith in God has abandoned me, my faith in his people never will.”

*

Mrs. Elliot was a strict, imposing old woman with wrinkles that made her laughs more precious and her glares more deadly. Felicity loved her. And, after an hour long interview in which Felicity ditched her French accent and had to read excerpts from six different books aloud and interpret them as well as solve a gambit of math problems, Mrs. Elliot had declared Felicity tolerable.

It was only after three months of working the shop everyday that Mrs. Elliot had finally started to warm up to Felicity--and that was only after she’d watched Felicity smack a man for pinching her thigh. After that, Mrs. Elliot had begun to treat Felicity like a granddaughter and even tricked Felicity into agreeing to teach her French.

That, though, didn’t stop the man from telling his friends about the ungrateful bitch who worked at the bookstore. Which is how Felicity found herself pulled into an alleyway, surrounded by four angry white men, after her 10 hour shift at a bookstore, in the fucking 1940’s.

 _Not the way I picture myself going out_ , she thought to herself as her attackers advanced and she wracked her brain to remember everything Sara taught her.

“Hey, little lady,” The man that Felicity had slapped stepped in front of the others and sneer at Felicity. “Still feeling high and mighty?”

“Um, yes.” Felicity nodded, displaying a carefree attitude even as the reality of her situation came crashing down around her.

“This from a fucking foreigner?” The man to the right of the main guy scoffed, and really it would get too hard to keep them apart like this, so Felicity decided to name them after assholes in her high school graduating class. The main guy was heretofore known as Todd McGee. To Todd’s right was Ethan Brown, to his right was Derek Whitaker, to his right was Chelsee Taylor.

“ _Un étranger avec plus de sens que toute votre famille._ ” Felicity cocked her head to the side to crack her neck. “Are you boys here to scare me?”

“We’re here to put you back in your damn place,” Chelsee growled, all four of them even more annoyed by the foreign language.

“What did you say about my family, you Jewish bitch?” Todd took a threatening step towards her, making Felicity roll her eyes.

“I would’ve thought that someone with your superiority complex wouldn’t like being taught things,” She hissed back at him, stepping forward herself to show them that she wasn’t afraid. “If you’re going to hurt me, do it. I’m tired, I work long hours for crap pay, I deal with you assholes all day, and a societal view that I’m intrinsically worth less than even the _shittiest_ white, Christian man, so there’s really nothing you can do at this point that would surprise me or ‘show me my place’ you misogynistic pigs. I don’t have time for your egotistical grandstanding.”

“You heard the lady,” A low voice came from behind Todd. Everyone turned to look at the new addition to the party, and while Felicity was grateful, she couldn’t help but groan internally. The man behind these goons was barely as tall as Felicity herself and weighed probably 100 pounds soaking wet. “She doesn’t have time for you.”

“Stay outta this, Rogers, you don’t have your guard dog to protect you this time.” Ethan laughed, earning a snicker out of Derek as well.

“Seeing the way you guys talk, I’d doubt this guy here would need any real help,” Felicity drawled flatly. Todd turned back to Felicity angrily.

“I’ve had just about enough of your smart mouth, you little bitch--”

“Apparently you didn’t hear me!” The newcomer shoved past the four men to stand in front of Felicity protectively. “Back off, Daniel.”

Huh, Daniel, not Todd. Okay. Daniel readied his fist, but was stopped when a tall man with short, dark brown hair grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and pulled him away. “I’m pretty sure you heard ‘em, Danny. Don’t make me have to tell your ma’ all about how you’re harassing this nice looking girl, huh? Mrs. Beverly has always had her heart set on grandkids, imagine if she knew that no dame with a half a brain would ever go for you.”

“Really, Barnes? Gonna bring my ma’ into this foreigner havin’ no respect?” Daniel tried to cover the way he cowered in front of the newcomer’s friend. Felicity snorted.

“ _I_ have no respect? I think I’d actually like to meet Mrs. Beverly and have a nice, long talk to her about how you decided that I was somehow your property, _connard_. You got off easy with a slap.” She growled angrily, stepping past the skinny blond to come face to face with Daniel. “I don’t need anyone else to fight my battles, Danny-boy, because you’re not even worth fighting. You’re a coward and a bully who picks on people you think won’t bite back. This is me, a foreign, Jewish _bitch_ biting back.”

Daniel’s eyes filled with rage, but after looking between the blond and the large brunet, he took a step back and brushed down the front of his shirt. He nodded to his friends to follow him, muttering something about how Felicity wasn’t worth it.

“Holy smokes,” The tall one gave Felicity a charming grin that may have melted off her clothes had Felicity not been through actual hell. “Steve, I think I’m in love.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Buck.” Steve rolled his eyes and held his hand out to Felicity when she turned to look at her two interveners. “My name’s Steve Rogers, this ol’ lump here is Bucky Barnes.”

“I’m Felicity Rose.” She responded with a gentle smile, taking Steve’s hand into a firm handshake that made her smile even more genuine. She was so used to men in this time period treating her like a fragile little flower, and having Steve shake her hand like she was an adult brought back a little of that steel in her spine. “Nice to meet you two.”

“The honor is ours, ma’am.” Steve pulled his hand away and blushed slightly when Felicity’s eyes stayed on his instead of wondering off to his friend. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I’m new. Ish. Newish.” Felicity waved her hand absentmindedly as she spoke. “Fresh off the boat, I guess. Well, that’s not quite true. I’ve been here for a few months, but I’ve always been busy, you know? I got a new job at Mrs. Elliot’s bookstore, and she’s been kind enough to make sure I’m too busy to think or go out ‘sinning’, as she says. So lately it’s been work, home, rinse, and repeat. _C’est la vie_ , I guess.”

“You’re French?” Bucky asked curiously, a small, goofy smile still on his lips.

“ _Qu’est-ce qu’il a donné suite_?” Felicity shrugged. “Yes, I’m French.” She turned back to Steve after answering Bucky’s question, making the older man grin wider in bemusement. “So, you always picking fights with four guys who look like they could bench press you?”

Bucky muttered something that sounded affirmative, but Steve ignored him to gesture back at Felicity. “You’re one to talk. You got right up in Daniel’s face and gave him what for. Bucky brought up his mother to scare him off, but you were ready to march him down to their apartment by his ear and tell her everything wrong he’s ever done.”

Felicity laughed and shrugged. “When you’ve seen and done what I’ve seen and done, not much can really faze you.”

“And what exactly what you seen and done?” Bucky asked, vaguely concerned.

Felicity pursed her lips and looked between them. “War, boys. No glory. Just gore.”

“But there’s no good in standing by while people are getting hurt, either.” Steve countered.

“You can’t shoot your way out of every problem.” Felicity looked down at the ground and bit the inside of her cheek. _Emotions_. “Most of the time, that only causes more.”

“A pacifist, I see.” Bucky observed. “I wouldn’t have thought it, seeing you look a man in the face and dare him to blink.”

“There’s a difference between getting jumped and going to war.” Felicity looked up at Bucky. “I’m anti-war, no matter what. It’s too messy. The parameters for acceptable loss are too loosely guarded.”

“What about now? With your own people at stake?” Bucky tilted his head to the side, enjoying challenging someone who rose it, even as Steve was watching them like a ping pong game.

Felicity pursed her lips. “What’s happening to the Jewish people is inhumane and wrong, but the general anti-semitism is global. And can you really tell me that forcing all immigrants into select neighborhoods here in America is any different? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that forcing those people to give up their choices is solving anything other than petty racism?”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. “But you can’t free people with ideals.”

“We wouldn’t know. No one’s tried it yet.” Felicity held her tongue from mentioning Gandhi, as that name held no weight. “This is a man’s world and a man’s first instinct is to fight until whatever they didn’t agree with is silent. Look at what Danny and his friends were trying to do.”

Steve frowned. “But sometimes war is a necessary evil, Ms. Rose.”

Felicity looked in between the two of them, remembering the list of casualties from Havenrock. The War on Darkness, the papers had advertised. “Maybe as far as the foot soldier knows, it is. The pen is mightier than the sword, Mr. Rogers. Wars aren’t won on the battlefield, they’re ended in a negotiation room with no winners, and a fucked over loser. You want to talk about Germany and the Nazi regime, talk to me about how Germany got royally fucked after the Great War which destabilized the entire country’s economy and turned them into a wounded, vulnerable mess. The history of war is written by propaganda and nationalism, and the losers are always left behind, demonized and desperate.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “What did you do before you got here?”

Felicity huffed and shook her head, thinking hard. “I guess the closest English word for it now would be codebreaking.”

“You were involved?” Steve raised his eyebrows as understanding dawned on him. Anti-war rhetoric was, after all, more common among veterans.

“Not in this. Not specifically.” Felicity pursed her lips, not wanting to lie to the men in front of her. “I worked on a special, underground project as a sort of mathematician, codebreaker, and technology expert. There was a mistake in a joint project. I was sent away. I can’t go back.”

“What about your family?” Steve asked, eyebrows drawn together.

Felicity took a deep breath, missing her mother’s smile more and more everyday. “Gone. I have some...relatives in Poland who I haven’t heard from.” Bucky and Steve shared a sympathetic look before glancing back over at Felicity. “Oh, come on. I’m not the only immigrant out here alone.”

“You’re just the one that we managed to save.” Bucky shrugged unapologetically.

“What? That?” Felicity rolled her eyes. “I had that handled.”

“Look, Steve, we found a pretty version of you!” Bucky raised his hands in exasperation. “I respect your whole thing, Rose, but four on one? You really had that handled? What is it with you two? Were they handed out death wishes when you guys were born?”

“Ah, stuff it, Bucky.” Steve elbowed Bucky goodnaturedly. “I believe you, Ms. Rose.”

“Please, both of you, call me Felicity.” She sighed and pushed her hair behind her ear. “I appreciate your help, anyway. Both of you. I know it’s not necessarily easy to step in on stuff like that.”

Steve shuffled uncomfortably. “I don’t like bullies, Felicity. Do you want us to walk you home?”

Felicity couldn’t help the laugh that escaped under her breath. “I think I’ve got it, Steve, thank you. I’ll leave you two to do...whatever it is you were doing.”

“Alright, but don’t be surprised if we check in with you at the store tomorrow.” Bucky called after Felicity as she walked past them.

“If you come into the store, you buy something.” Felicity instructed them, raising one eyebrow at Bucky’s shit eating grin.

She was too far to hear it when Bucky looked down at Steve and spoke. “I like her. She’s got moxy.”

“You like every girl, Bucky.”

“Well yeah, but usually they _like me back_.”

*

“Welcome to Elliot’s Book Shop.” Felicity flashed a fake smile in the direction of the door before going back to doing inventory. “If you need assistance, I will be with you in a minute.”

“Take your time, doll.” Bucky’s voice carried over the empty store as Steve wandered away from him to help Felicity with her work. She was on a ladder holding a box of books and a clipboard, checking off on a list of titles as she put them away. Steve grabbed the clipboard from her arms before she could drop it and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

“How did I know that you two were gonna visit today?” She wondered aloud, grabbing another book from the box. “Can you do me a favor, Stevie, and check off the titles that I call out?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve nodded and held the list up to read it.

Bucky walked over to them, his hands in his pockets as he looked over some of the shelves. “You might’ve known that we were visiting because you told you. Just a wild guess, though.”

“Cold Comfort Farm,” Felicity announced to Steve, moving up and to the right to put the book in with the other ‘g’ authors. “You’re a sassy little thing, Buckaroo. Are you guys actually here to buy something or just distract me while I’m working.”

“The latter option sounds the most fun. You got a break anytime soon, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, gently taking the box from Felicity’s arms once he realized how she’d over extend herself on the ladder. Ignoring her pout, he grabbed a book from the top of the pile and read out the title. “Absalom, Absalom!”

“Got it,” Steve confirmed and Bucky held up the book for Felicity.

Felicity moved down a rung in the ladder and placed Faulkner with his other works on the shelves--and boy, that was almost as surreal as when she’d come across a copy of The Hobbit. “I can take five minutes after I’m done with this box, but if Mrs. Elliot tells you boys to scatter, you scatter, _entendu_?”

“Sure, sure,” Bucky shrugged. “Goodbye, Mr. Chips. Quick question: what does ‘entendo’ mean?”

“It’s French for understood.” Steve answered.

“ _Et ils disent étrangers ne savent rien._ You know French?”

“I looked through a French to English dictionary last night. I’ve got a good memory.”

“He just wants to impress you. As I Lay Dying.”

“Consider me impressed. It’s always taken me years to master a new language, but the vocabulary was never really my strong point.”

“How did you learn English?” Steve asked curiously. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but your English sounds more natural than most new immigrants.”

“The Big Sleep.”

“I learned before I got here, and have been working to get rid of my accent because it makes customers uncomfortable. My parents spent most of their lives in England so I learned that at home, but my grandmother was very French so she demanded we only speak French in her home. Then we moved to France, and English went to the backburner.” Felicity avoided looking at either of them as she put the book away. She’d already decided on her backstory and made it as close to the truth as she could, but she couldn’t very well tell Bucky and Steve that she was a native speaker 70 years from now.

“Do you know Hebrew or Yiddish?” Bucky asked.

“I know conversational Yiddish and enough Hebrew to get through my temple classes back when I was a kid, but I’ve forgotten most of it. I also know conversational Spanish.” And coding, she reminded herself. Every night, she’d stay up and write out familiar and easy codes so that she wouldn’t forget. After all, it didn’t matter what languages she’d picked up, coding was her favorite.

Bucky let out a low whistle. “This dame is smarter than both of us combined, Steve.”

“You hadn’t already figured that out?” Steve raised one eyebrow at Bucky, who answered with a simple laugh and another book title.

The conversation went on like that for the fifteen minutes it took for them to get through the box of books. They’d take turns asking and answering questions--most of them directed at the newb of the group. Felicity answered as honestly as she could, but started trying to direct the questions back to them when they hit too close to home, like when Bucky had asked about her parents.

“So, were your parents super geniuses, too?” He asked offhandedly, but both Steve and Felicity picked up on the genuine curiosity. _Oh, Bucky. You are so not hard to read and your “bad boy persona” is more adorable than mysterious._

“Are your parents sassy? Were Steve’s parents artists?” Felicity shot back, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “My mom was smart in different ways than me and while my father and I may have been alike, I barely knew him because he fucked off as soon as he could.”

There was a thick pause as Felicity resolutely did not look at the two men she’d wanted so badly to accept her and the other two traded worried and sympathetic looks.

Eventually, Steve snaked his hand around the ladder and gently squeezed Felicity’s ankle--the most appropriate part of her body that he could actually reach. “Hey, Felicity, look at us.”

Felicity sighed, but obliged.

“Our parents are dead, too. Steve’s dad wasn’t a great guy and left him and his mom alone for a while, too. My dad died before my sister was even born. We get it.” Bucky took over. Felicity looked at him searchingly for a second before nodding in understanding and turning to give Steve a gentle smile. Bucky felt the sudden heaviness surrounding them lift slightly and decided to shuck it off entirely. “So, Rose, cats or dogs?”

“Dogs.” Felicity answered without missing a beat.

And then they were back. It was like they’d known each other forever, barely having to push to know which boundaries to be respected and which were nonexistent. They talked through Felicity’s break and another hour while Felicity occasionally broke away from them to do her job.

“Hey, you think you can teach me some French?” Bucky asked once when Felicity got back from the counter.

“What do you need French for, Barnes?” She asked, a single eyebrow raised in sarcastic curiousness. 

Steve snorted at the two of them. “He needs it to pick up the dames.”

Felicity grinned widely. “Alright. You want to know a line that will work every time in France?”

“Yes, please.” Bucky smirked.

“ _Je ne sais pas comment faire plaisir à une femme._ ”

It took Bucky a few times to get it right--he even went so far as to spell it out phonetically in Steve’s journal--but he had an ear for the language. “Alright, _Je ne sais pas comment faire plaisir à une femme._ What does it mean, though?”

“It doesn’t really translate well,” Felicity pursed her lips and thought about how she should translate it. “I guess the rough translation would be ‘you’ll never forget your time with me’.”

Bucky grinned. Steve looked up at Felicity with narrowed eyes from his seat.

(He later cornered her to ask what the line really meant. Felicity almost thought that he was going to piss his pants with how hard he was laughing when she told him.)

*

Pretending to be surprised by Pearl Harbor wasn’t something Felicity ever wanted to do again. It made her stay up late that night (in Bucky and Steve’s apartment because they were paranoid about people’s reactions to an immigrant) and really fucking _think_ about the future. Specifically, if she could change anything. If she should. If it was her place. If it would only make things worse.

She couldn’t know the ramifications of any of her actions here in the past. She couldn’t guarantee that she’d save any lives in the long run, and a nazi-run future was the absolute worst case scenario, so she stayed silent.

She pretended not to notice the concerned way that Bucky and Steve acted around her--she knew that they would pick up on her change in behavior, but she _couldn’t_ pretend that she was just fine, because they’d see through that, too. In the long and short of it, Felicity felt guilt for near 70 years worth of tragedies because _she couldn’t say anything_ and if there’s one thing that Felicity hated feeling, it was hopeless.

*

“I got my marching orders.” Bucky told Felicity quietly as they watched from the counter as Steve went through the stack of comics near the door to try to find one that he and Bucky had read a few years because he was _sure_ that Bucky was remembering a part of it wrong.

Felicity frowned and nodded. It was horrible, terrifying, and about a thousand other negative adjectives, but she’d been numb since the day that would live in infamy and honestly, she should’ve seen it coming. “Draft or enlistment?”

“Don’t tell Steve, but draft.” Bucky answered honestly, which tugged even more at Felicity’s frozen heartstrings. “I don’t- I don’t want to leave you two idiots alone. I know that Steve’s rearing for a fight, and that you’re going through something that you refuse to talk about, but I have to leave you two here. I need you to promise me to look after him while I’m gone. That- that’s the only way that I know I can fight out there.”

“Bucky,” Felicity shook her head and looked up at him. “I think it’s hilarious that you think that he won’t find a way to follow you, but I’ll try my best. I- you two are the closest that I’ve got to family here, so you better come back, you hear me?”

Bucky smiled sadly down at her. “You’re taking this pretty well. I expected more ranting and tears.”

“I told ya, Buck.” Felicity mirrored his grimace. “I’ve been to war. I knew this was coming. I honestly expected it from Steve, first, though. I would’ve felt better, knowing that he had your back out there.”

“Steve is 90 pounds and barely taller than you, Rose, how the hell is he supposed to have my back?”

“Tenacity, Barnes, you need to count for tenacity.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “I’m leaving after the first day of the Stark Expo, so you two better be my dates. I want at least one fun night out with you.”

“We’ve had half a dozen fun nights out,” Felicity flicked Bucky’s shoulder. “Go tell Steve about your battle plans, soldier. I’ve got to do the books.”

“That’s a yes to the Expo, _oui_?”

“ _Oui_.”

*

The first night of the Stark Expo, Steve met Dr. Erskine.

The first night of the Stark Expo, Bucky shipped out a few hours early, trying to forget the way Felicity had covered up her tears and Steve had held him in a tight hug.

The first night of the Stark Expo, Howard Stark tried to hit on Felicity before they settled into a fascinating discussion about his failed flying car and electromagnetism.

It was the first night in each of their individual stories.

*

“I still can’t believe that you volunteered to get yourself experimented on, you fucking idiot.” Felicity hissed as she helped Steve go through prep for Project Rebirth. “Do you know how many goddamn times Bucky and I have written you at your apartment with no fucking answer?”

“To be fair, you didn’t exactly tell me that you’d gotten a new job working with Howard Stark.” Steve shot back, his frustration making the implication of just how Felicity could’ve gotten that job clear. Felicity straightened to her full height and glared at Steve something mighty--making him feel even smaller than when Steve would stand next to the Empire State Building. He looked away from her, knowing what to expect. The Loud Voice was one that he’d watched Felicity use on Bucky enough to fear it.

But instead, Felicity surprised him--as always--by slapping him.

Stepping back instinctively, Steve held a hand to his assaulted cheek and blinked at the shorter blonde, stunned.

“Fuck you, Steve Rogers.” She growled in a low tone. “Forget how you just sounded like one hell of an almighty prick, Bucky’s been tearing his hair out worried about you so don’t you dare give me some light about how I’m at fault here. _Vous, les hommes ne comprennent jamais consuquences pour vos actions stupides. Vous voulez me blâmer? Bien. Mais rappelez-vous ceci. Rappelez-vous la prochaine fois que vous le voyez. Il ne mérite pas d'être traité comme cela parce que vous êtes en colère contre moi._ ”

While Steve didn’t necessarily understand all of the French, he knew enough that when Felicity started to storm away, he couldn’t let it end like that. He reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “ _Je suis désolé._ Felicity, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I was just caught off guard seeing you here, and I- please don’t leave.”

Felicity sighed and shook her head, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Steve’s neck in a tight hug. “I was worried, Steve. When people get worried and realize that it was for nothing, they get frustrated. But I am happy for you, that you found a way to fight for what you believe in. Even if I disapprove, I can’t ask you not to be true to who you are.”

Steve returned the hug gratefully. “Thank you, Felicity. Now,” He pulled away and gave her a shaky smile. “After this, we should definitely trade stories.”

“Agreed.” Felicity nodded and lead him back into the main room for Project Rebirth. She made eye contact with both Howard and Dr. Erskine before turning back to Steve. “I’m not going to lie to you, this will hurt like a bitch. I’ve looked over the design a dozen times, and you shouldn’t die if everything goes right, but if it gets to be too much, you say the word, and I’ll take you out of there. You understand? You’ve gotta speak up, Steve.”

“I understand, but it won’t come to that.” Steve smiled shakily. “Even if it is _Howard Stark_ , the inventory of the flying car that fell apart, that you had to work with, this is still _you_ we’re talking about. I trust anything you make.”

“It’s hilarious to me that you’re so smooth with me yet so bad with literally every other girl on the planet.” Felicity smiled gently up at him. “Alright, let’s get this party started…”

*

She’d like to say that she recognized Dr. Erskine or his name or the name of Project Rebirth, but it wasn’t until she was pushing to good doctor out of the way of a bullet by pure chance that she realized exactly what she was a part of. After all, though the names had been withheld for personal and familial privacy after his death, everyone knew of Captain America’s story.

She honestly had had enough with getting shot, but she figured it was worth it to push mother fucking Dr. Erskine out of the way, even if the bullet under her collarbone was dangerous close to her heart and no amount of previously getting shot would stop bullet wounds from hurting _really_ fucking badly.

“Felicity!?” Steve yelled when she went down, scrambling down onto his knees to grab her and pull her to his chest. “Felicity, stay with me.”

“Fuck, that hurt.” She croaked out. Howard was soon at her other side, looking nearly as worried as Steve did. “What are you waiting for, Steve?”

“What?” He tilted his head to the side, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to decipher her words without getting hung up on the _fucking bullet hole_.

“Howard’s got this. Go make that fucker pay for fucking shooting me or I’m gonna be pissed.” Felicity slurred slightly. “I’ll be fine without you. You aren’t a doctor. Go fight.”

“I-” He stuttered before looking over at Howard with a fierce expression. “You take care of her, you understand?”

“I got it, she’s my friend, too. I’m not gonna let her die, now go get the shooter!” Howard commanded, earning a curt nod before Steve was up and running, trying to control new muscles and limbs that he barely recognized. “Alright, Rose, tell me what I need to do here.”

Felicity let out a strangled laugh. “I’m not a doctor, Stark.” She took a few breaths as deep as she could without feeling like her chest was on fire before flipping onto her uninjured shoulder. “I need- fuck- is there an exit wound?”

Howard looked at the back of her shoulder and nodded. “Yeah, exit wound. Looks like a downward angle--”

“I don’t need the logistics, only the fact.” Felicity cut him off. “The blood, is it dark red or bright?”

“I don’t--”

“My lipstick or Peggy’s, Stark.”

“Yours.” Howard answered.

“Thank Christ.” Felicity sighed out, dropping onto her back once more. “Alright, Stark, I need you to put- put pressure on it so that I won’t bleed out.”

Howard shrugged out of his jacket and bunched it up on the wound before pressing down. “Good- good fucking God, Rose. Fucking God. Holy hell, are you sure about this?”

“No exit means that I don’t have to deal with getting the bullet out, which would’ve most likely either nicked an artery or punctured my heart. Dark blood means that there wasn’t an artery bleed. I need stitches and an x-ray of my collar bone to make sure the bullet didn’t fracture, but I should- I should be a-okay.”

“You sound experienced in this.” Howard observed. He watched as Felicity’s eyes fluttered closed and cursed himself. “Talk to me. Tell me how you know this.”

“Not- not my first time getting shot.” Felicity fought to stay awake.

Howard shook his head. “No shit. When? What happened?”

“Before- before all of this. He was aiming for- for Sara, and I had to- to push her out of the way.” Felicity sniffed at the thought of her blonde friend. “My fault. I was- I wanted to feel needed. She would’ve been more- more in the game if it wasn’t for me. Oliver- he told me...it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t- I can’t go back.”

Tears began to fall from the corners of Felicity’s eyes as the blood loss made the memories even more powerful. Howard shifted his weight to one hand to hold his jacket while he brought the other blood stained hand up to brush away the tears on Felicity’s face. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the most Felicity had spoken about her past since they’d crossed paths at the Expo.

“So this is only bullet scar number two, then. You should be fine. You can still wear strappy dresses if you’re methodical about it.” Howard tried to bring her back.

“Not- not the second scar. S-seventh.” Felicity corrected with a wan smile. “I got- got caught in a shootout after he- after Oliver proposed. Wanted to hurt him- to kill him. I was- I was the only one who got hurt, though. He wouldn’t- he didn’t even come to the hospital for a week.” Felicity screwed her eyes closed as the feelings from back them hit her full force. “Don’t- don’t leave me alone in the hospital, Howard, please--”

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Howard looked around them at the chaos raised his voice. “If none of you have noticed, this woman’s been _shot_! Someone get a fucking doctor!”

“This is the girl that saved me,” Erskine realized when he hurried over with his bag.

Howard nodded. “The bullet is a through and through, doesn’t appear to have hit any arteries. I need to get her to a hospital for an x-ray to so if there are any fragments before she gets stitches.”

“No need to delay,” Erskine shook his head and reached into his bag to pull out a hand held metal detector. He waved the metal detector over Felicity’s shoulder and, when the device didn’t beep, he nodded and dove back into his bag. “Looks like we don’t have to worry about fragments. I will cut away her sleeve and clean up the wounds before stitching them up. I do not have any numbing agent--”

“I’m about to pass out, anyway,” Felicity let out a sigh. “Tell Steve not to do anything stupid if I die.”

“You’re not gonna die, sweetheart.” Howard argued. “Stay- stay with me.”

“What’s your name?” Erskine asked as he started cutting away Felicity’s button up shirt.

“Felicity Smoak. Rosenberg. Rose. Shit.” Felicity winced as Erskine pulled away the bloody fabric. She watched the dark spots in her vision begin to overwhelm her and let her eyelids close. “I’m just gonna- yeah.”

She couldn’t exactly make out Howard’s next words, unconsciousness too thick, but she could remember one thought that went through her mind.

_Steve’s gonna pissed if I die here._

*

“I’m _fine_ , Steve.” Felicity batted his hand away as she walked with him off of the stage in DC. Howard had pushed her to fly out to surprise him the day after she had gotten out of the sling that the hospital had burdened her with, but she hadn’t taken into account Steve’s need to mother hen everyone around him precisely three minutes after being surprised about her visit.

“You shouldn’t be carrying anything!” Steve shot back at her. “I don’t even know if I’d trust that to be out a sling this quickly.”

“It’s been a month, it was just a little shot,” Felicity rolled her eyes.

“Just a little shot, sure. Not like you saved a man’s life or nearly bled out.” Steve hissed back at her. “I was terrified when I got back to the lab and you weren’t there, but a giant pool of blood was. Howard was irritable the entire time in the waiting room--asking me if I knew some Oliver, a fiancé that your mind brought up because you were delusional from blood loss. He says that you’ve been spacey ever since, too.”

Felicity sighed and looked up at Steve with pursed lips, his new shoulder to waist ratio not helping with the whole defending her non-spaciness. “I will say this one last time, Rogers. I was not completely delusional. Oliver was a friend from before who I was engaged to for about five minutes before it fell through after the time that our car was shot up. Howard asked me questions, they invoked memories.” She raised her eyebrows at him, daring him to contradict her story, before leading him back to his dressing room.

“I’m still not sold on this Oliver guy,” He announced as they walked into the fairly large room, making Felicity groan as she flopped down onto the couch.

“Neither was I, there towards the end.” She deadpanned at him.

Ignoring her, Steve continued. “I mean, you haven’t ever mentioned a previous fiancé before you were shot.”

“I don’t like to talk about him, so we should change the subject. Anything else, really. How long did it take these USO girls to get used to your body that looks like it was carved out of marble? Because I’m still not over it and I helped you get the muscles.” Felicity paused for a beat before shaking her head. “Actually, no, ignore that topic. How about this one: why the fuck did you think it was necessary to send Bucky a letter telling him that I was shot when you expressly forbade me from telling him about your extreme makeover.”

“What?”

“Forget the reference,” Felicity waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just kinda pissed that I got an entire six page rant from everybody’s favorite sergeant and I was the only recipient. You deserve at least four of those pages.”

Steve hummed. “Maybe half-and-half would be more fair.”

“You socialist dorito,” Felicity mumbled.

“What?”

“ _Français chose._ ” Felicity shrugged, resolutely ignoring the linger pang of discomfort from her shoulder. (Steve’s glare told her that she was a shit actor, but he didn’t say anything so, score!) “I can agree on half. But still, why did you tell him? Now he’s gonna baby me when he comes home.”

Steve was helpless to the smile that lifted his entire face when she used the word ‘home’. “Maybe that was my plan all along.”

Felicity gasped. “You sly fox! You evil mastermind!”

Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a pillow from the other end of the couch to throw it at her.

Life was good.

*

Correction: life was good until Howard woke her up at an ungodly hour and announced that he was going to fly Peggy and Steve into enemy territory, gleefully inviting her to come along. Felicity would like it on record that she was firmly against the mission until Steve told her who was at stake.

Then she was cursing her inability to be useful when she wasn’t behind a computer.

It was during the days in between Steve’s departure and his triumphant return that Felicity marched up to Peggy Carter with a plea on her lips.

“Can you teach me how to fight?” She asked the other woman while the rest of the 107th was eating breakfast.

Peggy looked up at Felicity, blinking widely in surprise. “Steve said that you were a pacifist.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly helping me protect anyone.” Felicity balled her hands into fists. “I can’t- I can’t just sit back. Not anymore. I know I have skills needed in the army in the form of technology, I just need to be able to hold my own. I already have some training, but I would need your approval, which means that I need you to teach me.”

Peggy smirked up at Felicity. “You’ve really thought this through, huh?”

“ _I_ don’t like halfcocked plans.” Felicity sighed slightly. “Please, Peg.”

“I suppose it would be nice to have another woman around here.” Peggy smiled gently at Felicity. “We start today, so make sure to eat.”

*

Bucky had never been prouder than seeing a slightly mudstained Felicity march up in front of the entire group of rescued prisoners and pull both Steve and Bucky into a group hug that felt like she never wanted to let go.

He’d never been more afraid than when Felicity told Steve that she wanted to be on his team as technological assistance. He wanted to throttle Steve when the fucking idiot approved it and fought for her. He understood the importance of choosing to fight and everything, but was it too much to ask that at least one person that Bucky loved could live a normal, happy life?

*

The last people that Bucky thought of as he fell were Steve and Felicity.

He wished he could’ve told them.

Well, he could settle for saving them. Just this one last time.

*

The last people that Steve thought of before he put the bomber in the ocean were Bucky and Felicity.

He wished that he could’ve told them.

Well, he could settle with saving her. Just this one last time.

*

It was irony in its purest form, Felicity realized one she was nice and shitfaced, that Steve and Bucky would get to the future, but not her. She wondered if they’d look her up and find Felicity Smoak instead. Steve had all of the pieces that he needed.

She told herself that she’d seen this coming. She knew this story like she knew the back of her hand. Captain America’s best friend died in the line of duty--the only Howling Commando to give his life during the war--and not even a week afterward, Captain America put a bomber plane into the ocean and was assumed dead until 70 years later, when he’d resurface during the invasion of New York as an Avenger, and again during the fall of SHIELD.

Wait…

*

“Um, gang?” Cisco started when his computer alerted him of a possible Felicity. He looked through the file--a saved SHIELD case file from the 40’s. Inside was a picture of Felicity “Rose” with Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, and two men identified as Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. The case file was a missing person file…

A missing person file detailing the mysterious disappearance of French immigrant Felicity Rose just after the death of Captain America--AKA Steve Rogers, which answered that question for Cisco at least.

He looked up at Sara, Ray, Oliver, and Barry who were giving him identical carefully hopeful looks and grinned widely. “I found our girl.”

*

“Took your damn time,” Felicity complained as Sara waltzed into the bar that the younger blonde was haunting.

“How long?”

“Nearly four years.” Felicity knocked back a swig of whiskey. “Fuckin’ lovely war, though.” She put her glass down and looked over at Sara properly. “How long for you?”

Sara sat next to Felicity and finished off her drink. “Four months.”

“I beat you.” Felicity gave Sara a finger gun. “Am I older than you now?”

“Nah, same age now.”

“Cool.”

Sara grabbed Felicity’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Let’s go back, cutie. We’re going back home.”

“Cool.”

*

“Hey Tony?” Steve started nervously, grabbing the other hero after a mission debriefing.

Tony cocked his head to the side and gave Steve a curious look. “You look like you want to ask me something. Usually you only yell at me, what’s up?”

Steve huffed a little bit, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I um- I wanted to see if you could- if you could find someone for me.”

Tony pursed his lips in understanding. “Someone from before?”

“Yeah. She was a good friend.” Steve explained. “She was- her name was Felicity Rosenberg, but she’d be down in files as Felicity Rose because as far as Ellis Island was considered, that was her name.”

Tony nodded and let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, Dad mentioned. He spent his entire life looking for you and for...and for her. She disappeared, Cap. About six months after you went under. No trace. She haunted a bar in Brooklyn for the two months that she was back stateside. The bartender was the last to witness her, said that she was approached by another blonde woman who she appeared to know. The woman held Felicity’s hand and led her outside, and that’s the last anyone knew.”

There was a second of silence where Steve looked at Tony speechless, heartbreak written across his face. Tony looked between his eyes and made a snap decision, the sadness too much for him to really take.

“Hey, how about this, Steve-o.” Tony started. “It seemed like Felicity left willingly, so who’s to say that she didn’t start up a new life somewhere else? I can use facial recognition on newspapers and facebook posts and old files, see if I can find her- find out what happened to her, you know? I could try that.”

Steve nodded mutely, making Tony shuffle uncomfortably before squeezing Steve’s shoulder to try to give him some comfort before he basically bolted away from the emotional situation. Steve watched Tony leave numbly before turning to lean against a wall in the Tower’s hallway and slide down to sit on the floor.

He didn’t know what he thought Ton would’ve told him, but he figured that it couldn’t possibly hurt worse than the scenarios that Steve had already constructed for her. He’d avoided any news about her so carefully--or so he’d thought, but in reality _there had been no news_. But after seeing Bucky again, seeing his fucked up fate, Steve just needed that bit of comfort.

He just needed someone to tell him that Felicity had fallen in love, gotten married, had kids, and grandkids, and died happily of old age in her sleep. Or, well, knowing Felicity, he needed someone to tell him that Felicity had fallen in love with computers, working with the non-lethal parts of SI to bring technology into the future, never quite gave up her job as Peggy’s partner, and died protecting someone, probably.

But instead he was left with questions.

Who was the mysterious blonde woman? Did Felicity know her? Was Felicity threatened into leaving with her? Did she go willingly? Why was Felicity at the bar? Why was Felicity alone? Where did they go? Did that woman kill Felicity? Did that woman kidnap Felicity? Did that woman use Felicity’s brain to create weapons? 

His mind was a storm of possibilities. Here he was, in the goddamn future. Both he _and_ Bucky and damn, he was almost remise that Felicity wasn’t with them because she was live off of this tech. She would love computers. Steve could picture Felicity all too easily at a computer desk, her glasses perched on her nose, tapping away at a keyboard with chipped nail polish and loudly telling him and Bucky to fuck off while she worked but secretly loving the company.

He couldn’t help Felicity now, though. So, instead he stood and decided to redouble his efforts into finding the Winter Soldier. Maybe instead of sending Tony on a wild goose chase, he could get the genius to hell him find someone that they could still help.

*

It took a year for Felicity to finally stop getting migraines from looking at computers for too long, and she figured that this was the beginning to forgetting about the 40’s. Forgetting about Steve and Bucky and Peggy and Howard because they couldn’t know who she was, really. She’d lied to them the entire time she’d known them. Even now, Bucky, Steve and Peggy were the only ones still around--Peggy fighting alzheimer’s and Steve tracking down the Winter Soldier--who, according to Hydra files, was actually Bucky. If Felicity wasn’t pissed off enough at Hydra in general for it’s ickiness.

(Okay, she may have been keeping tabs on the Avengers after the whole 40’s debacle, but it totally worked out because she ended up catching some hinky AI code before it could fully formulate into something that could’ve been potentially very bad.

She was also able to leave enough bread crumbs into Tony’s system to 1) alert him to the fact that Bucky killed his parent while being mind controlled because Tony deserved to know and 2) bring Tony’s attention to a lead that Steve had looked over, but Felicity had managed to catch while going through hours of security camera footage. So what if she was rooting for Steve and Bucky to reunite? Was it so weird that she loved her fucking friends?)

She still couldn’t actually set foot in her old apartment in Star City, though, and that was enough to make her angry all day some days. Iris had been the first to volunteer her father’s home for Felicity to stay at while she readjusted, but after merely two months of being around that whole family vibe, Felicity was missing the 107th like baby teeth--pieces of herself that he had thought she needed but could never get back.

Her mother had been a godsend, though. Donna Smoak had welcomed Felicity home with minimal questions and a shitload of mothering that made Felicity miss her boys, but mostly made her thankful for her mother. Still, Vegas wasn’t a home, and could only keep her for a month--though she did start calling her mother daily.

From then on, a pattern started of Felicity staying in a place for a month or two before bolting once the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Sara made frequent jokes about the therapeutic properties of becoming a drifter, but the concern from her friends was real. But how could she tell them that missed a life that didn’t feel real at all? How could she make them understand that she’d fallen in love with two men who made her feel safe and powerful and who she felt like she could’ve trust with everything?

How could she tell them that those men were dead?

Strangely, the only person who seemed to understand was Ray. When it was his turn to check in on her (and they thought she didn’t notice that they had a fucking pattern, but she was mourning, not a fucking moron) Ray would just invite her out for lunch and talk. His silent understanding and the lack of pressure to return to the Felicity from before was the most healing thing that she’d gotten out of her friends.

Not to mention that, in being back in 2016, Felicity had to be face to face with something that she’d tried her hardest to forget: Havenrock.

God, how could she think that she could live happily with Steve and Bucky when she was a mass fucking murderer, living everyday with tens of thousands on ghosts haunting her. Still, after Sara had retrieved her from that bar in the 40’s, Felicity made a concentrated effort into staying sober. She could remember Steve’s stories of his dad, a drunk who drowned his sorrows and expressed his rage.

She refused to become like any person that Steve could actually hate.

So she drifted and kept her head down. She didn’t re-dye her hair, she didn’t make an effort to disguise herself, but she didn’t announce herself either. Mostly she passed through towns like the ghost she felt like she was.

*

It was three months after Steve found Bucky that the other man finally asked about her.

“Do you know?” Bucky spoke out of nowhere, earning a surprised jump from Steve, who’d been buried in the pages of The Hobbit--Felicity’s favorite. “What happened to Felicity?”

Steve frowned and considered lying to him, but figured that he’d pick up on it. Steve carefully folded the corner of the page to mark his place and closed the book, laying it down on his coffee table before facing Bucky fully. “She disappeared, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and surprise. “What’d’ya mean ‘she disappeared’? People don’t just disappear.” Steve sighed and gave Bucky the story that Tony had given him, meaning that Bucky was on his feet and pacing by the end of it. “Okay, sure, that’s weird, but people don’t just disappear! There has to be something.”

“What does it matter?” Steve snapped before grimacing at his own words. “Okay, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I loved her, too, Buck, you know it. But what- what good would it do to learn how she died? What would that help?”

Bucky looked down at Steve silently for a beat. “I don’t call about how she died, punk, I want to know how she lived. Say she was murdered by this mysterious blonde, huh? Wouldn’t you- wouldn’t you sleep better knowing that? Say her body was a Jane Doe, wouldn’t you feel better knowing that she’d fought back? Say she just ran away with this girl, what if they lived happily, Steve? I need to know.”

They stared each other down before Steve let out a sigh and nodded.

The search was on.

*

If you asked Felicity Smoak what was the last thing she expected when she walked into her hotel room in Boston, Bucky and Steve’s matching disapproving glares was definitely near the top of the list.

Tony Stark sprawled out on the unmade bed whistling lowly and greeting her was a cheerful “Lucy, you got some ‘splainin’ to do!” was also close to the top slot.

She gaped at the two men in front of her before shaking herself out of it. “Um. Hi?”

“Felicity Smoak, huh?” Bucky asked gruffly.

Steve’s glare shifted to a concerned look. “You do know us, right?”

“Well, I know two of you personally and one by reputation.” Felicity answered. “So I figure that must be an affirmative. Quick request: maybe can we not do this in front of Tony fucking Stark?”

“If you have anything to say to them, you can say it to me!” Tony huffed in exaggerated offense.

“Is this about me turning down your job offer?” Felicity raised a single eyebrow at the genius.

Tony shuffled a little before nodding. “If you promise to reconsider, I’ll scram.”

“Sure thing.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Smoak.” Tony gave her twin finger guns before scooting around her to leave the room, leaving Felicity with two very unhappy supersoldiers.

“Before you say anything,” Felicity held up her hands to stop Steve and Bucky, who both were getting ready to tear into her. “I’m sorry.”

Next to Bucky, Steve basically deflated--the way he almost always did when Felicity gave him that genuine expression. Bucky groaned inwardly and decided to take over the situation before Steve rolled over like a puppy. “We don’t need apologies, Felicity, we need explanations.”

Felicity let out a gusty sigh. “That’s a longer story.”

“We’ve got time.” Steve answered.

*

“Wait, so how do you know French?” Bucky asked, arms crossed over the back of the chair that he was sitting in like this was some damn photoshoot or something. Steve had settled on the other chair a few feet next to Bucky but was sitting in it like an adult while Felicity sat on the edge of the bed across from them.

“I told you,” Felicity shrugged. “My grandmother was born in France and demanded only French in her house. You tend to pick up on languages pretty quick when you babble as much as I do and it’s French or getting your pressure points pushed in by my gran’s long ass nails.”

Steve hummed. “So most of what you told us--”

“True, if not adjusted. I tried to be as honest as possible.” Felicity’s gaze flicked down to her lap. “I know that I still deceived you, and for that I am really sorry.”

“It’s not like you could’ve opened with ‘Hi, I’m Felicity Smoak, a time traveler from the year 2016’.” Steve smiled wanly at Felicity. “Besides, the whole ‘Oliver’ thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“You want us to kick his ass, doll?” Bucky offered, smiling to himself when Felicity snickered and shook her head in amusement instead of wearing that damn guilty expression she’d sported since walking in and finding the blast from the past.

“Thank’s for the offer, Buck, but I’m pretty much over it.” Felicity looked between Steve and Bucky _discreetly_.

“Wait,” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “The ‘war’ that you said you’ve seen, were you talking about Damien Darhk?”

Felicity gnawed on her bottom lip before nodding. “Darhk and...and Havenrock. You know that I’ve worked with the Green Arrow and other vigilantes. I was in Star City with GA during everything that went down. After Oliver proposed to me, it was Darhk’s men that shot up the car that I was in and paralyzed me. Still, I was a part of the fight. In the eleventh hour, I recruited my father--a hacker who did leave as soon as it was convenient--to help me keep the missiles out of Darhk’s hands electronically. And for the most part, we succeeded, except for one. The one missile that Darhk managed to launch.”

Bucky blinked at the girl in front of him before shaking his head. “Aw, come on, Felicity, you know that ain’t on you.”

“I changed the landing site.” Felicity argued back flatly. “If it wasn’t for me, that missile would’ve gone to Monument Point.”

“I- Monument Point has a much larger population than Havenrock, sweetheart.” Steve realised. “It would’ve probably killed millions in Monument Point.”

“Sure, but the tens of thousands in Havenrock would still be alive.”

Bucky scoffed and stood. “C’mere.”

“What?” Felicity asked cautiously, standing to be as on level with Bucky as she could be as he impatiently waved her closer to him.

“You see this?” He asked, holding up his metal hand. “This hand, _my_ hand has killed countless people. I remember each one of them. Names, dates, eye colors. I remember the ones that deserved it, the ones that didn’t. This machine is a part of me, and it may not have the blood of over a thousand people on it, but there’s enough.” Bucky reached forward and grabbed Felicity’s hands, holding them palm upward as he looked down on them. “These? These hands don’t have blood on them. These hands have tried their hardest to protect everyone and have realized too painfully that they can’t.”

“Some powerful man lashing out is on him, Felicity.” Steve continued, stepping up to Felicity’s back. “You aren’t responsible for that when all you’ve done is try to save the people he targets. And you, Bucky, aren’t responsible for what Hydra made you do.”

“I know, punk.” Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve’s emphatic declarations, settling his gaze back on Felicity. “He’s always so dramatic.”

“A dramatic mother hen, indeed, but we love him so.” Felicity sighed and leaned back into Steve’s chest.

“That we do.” Bucky laced his fingers through Felicity’s and tugged her forward until he had her in a gentle hug. “I’m happy that we found you, Felicity.”

“Me too, Bucky.” Felicity murmured against Bucky’s neck, both of them relishing in the warmth of each other until Steve’s muscled arms came from behind Felicity to hug both of them.

“When I woke up in the future,” Steve started, happily nuzzling one side of Felicity’s neck. “I thought that I was alone and that I would regret something for the rest of my life, and I don’t know if it was fate or God, but now I have the chance to tell you guys and I- I love you two.”

“Felicity and Bucky shared a slightly exasperated look before Felicity answered Steve. “We love you, too, you dense idiot. We have since Bucky put a leash around your chest to keep you from going after Kyle Manoni.”

“Kyle Manoni was a bastard and deserved a punch in the face!” Steve huffed, leftover anger from being treated like a chihuahua clear from his tone, making Bucky and Felicity crack up with laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Look.
> 
> I'm avoiding finishing How Did We End Up Like This?, okay? Someone mentioned Smoak/Rogers/Bucky, I got the idea, it grew.
> 
> Lo siento.
> 
> Go follow me on social media:
> 
> [see wally_birb for pretty pictures](http://www.instagram.com/wally_birb/)
> 
> [see alpha-whale for snark in spades](http://www.alpha-whale.tumblr.com)


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